Sunday, August 14, 2011

My big kids attended Les Miserables, performed by the Broadway touring cast. Oh, how I love a good musical. And Les Mis is a good one.

Lucy turns 15 in October and she begged for Les Mis tickets as an early birthday present. We initially thought we'd make it a daddy/daughter date, but since Lyle and I both saw the show years ago in Iowa City, we offered Bruder the chaperone role. He jumped on it like a gator. "I love Lucy's birthday!" he proclaimed.

I dropped the kids off at the ferry dock and they went out for dinner at Ivar's Restaurant and then walked the mile to the theater. They LOVED the show, as I knew they would, and then they went to the Cheescake Factory for some nutrition. There are raspberries in there, right?

I told them that the last two ferries leaving for the island were at 12:15 and 1:35. If they missed those, they'd be sleeping under a bridge in Seattle. The play finished at 11:00, so I knew it would be late. When the phone rang at midnight, I figured they were in the terminal, just letting me know they'd be on the next ferry. Wrong.

"Um, Mom, we're lost."

"Where are you?" I asked. I'd just sat down at the computer to pull up a map.

"We're in someplace called Pioneer Square." I typed in Pioneer Square and this is what I read, copied straight from the website:

One word of caution, Pioneer Square is near the city and county courthouses as well as the county jail. Almost every time you walk through the area, you see something or somebody that seems a little off. The area is also popular with the homeless. It’s not a threatening environment, but is definitely one where you are better off staying aware of your surroundings. After dark in particular you should think twice about leaving the 1st Avenue corridor. The folks in the bars are pretty harmless. The same may not always be true up around the bus stops on 2nd and 3rd Avenues.

Great.

"Is there anyone at all who looks normal, who you could ask to point you in the direction of the ferry?"

"No!" they answered.

"Can you see the water? Head toward the water."

"Mom, no offense, but you're not being very helpful."

As I searched a map, trying to get them on the right path to the ferry, I heard a muffled unfamiliar voice and then my kids voices saying, "No thank you." This was not a comfortable parenting moment.

Needless to say, they found the ferry and made it home. We fell into our beds at about two in the morning. The big kids drifted off to sleep with "I Dreamed a Dream" floating through their heads. I, on the other hand, had to shake off visions of Jack the Ripper stalking my children.

Alls's well that ends well, but next time, I think I'll volunteer my services as an additional chaperone. Especially if it's a musical.

Why Scravings?

The family vernacular for tidbits of food left on a plate after a meal, as in, "I'll give my scravings to Charlie," or "I CAN have dessert. This is just scravings." It seemed an appropriate word for the little morsels thrown out on our blog. Sometimes tasty, sometimes destined for the dog dish.